Alive
by snuggled
Summary: Kimimaro is diagnosed with schizophrenia, until its discovered to be a misdiagnosis. Sold away to the mental institution by his parents, his only source of comfort is the homicidally inclined Juugo, a new patient. Dark boy-love at its finest.
1. The Diagnosis

_I don't know why–maybe it's the fact that I was sick as a dog when I started watching the dubs of the Retrieve Sasuke arc and therefore found Kimimaro extremely appealing or what, but now all of a sudden I've just fallen head over heels over his character. And so the other day, when I remembered those episodes of Scrubs with (I think his name was) Dave, the guy who's always walking around with an I.V. and saying things like, "Wow, I used to have a nose," or something else ridiculously silly because he had Walking Corpse Syndrome, I just couldn't help but think about Kimi-kun and how fitting it was. Him moving on sheer will and all that. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized I was in for a plot if I added Juugo into the mix! And Juugo __did__ have mental problems as well! This would work!!_

_Ahem, pardon my giddiness._

_This fic is going to be rather difficult, mainly because the mental disorder in this fic is so incredibly rare. I have only been able to look at __one__ case study over Cotard's syndrome so far, and the rest have all been secondary accounts._

_Cotard's syndrome–also known as Walking Corpse Syndrome–is difficult to describe. It can result after a brain injury or even after sinking into the lowest levels of depression. There's nothing that has been reported to work, although in __four__ studies, electroconvulsive therapy has worked. Whether this is related to severe depression (electroconvulsive therapy is used in severe cases of depression) or not is still debatable. The rarity of the syndrome makes it difficult to treat and study effectively, so I'm just winging it. The biggest thing I've resorted to studying in detail are antipsychotics. (That means the drug mentioned in this can also be used for other things like bipolar isorder, OCD, .)_

_Well…this is also my first Kimimaro-centered fic, and I happen to like the whole friendship between him and Juugo–the one mentioned in Shippuuden–, but I felt like it'd be nice to actually do a yaoi pairing for them. And that's where this fic is going to eventually go. (There needs to be more KimiJuu, damn it! D:)_

_It's AU, and centered around a mental institution, so expect to see a few other members of the Sound Five making an appearance, maybe even Gaara._

* * *

**Alive  
**_Chapter One – The Diagnosis_

_My parents weren't…loving. To be honest, they rarely knew what to do with me so they just sent me to a relative's house for the weekend. I couldn't blame them, really. They weren't used to kids, and they often said they hated kids. I couldn't complain, of course. They hated kids, and I was a kid, so therefore they hated me. It was that simple._

…_That is, until I started to get sick._

_The second I started feeling drained and hollowed out from the inside, too sick to even get out of bed, they finally decided they wanted me around. Instead of taking me to the hospital, they kept me at home. It wasn't until my condition took a turn for the worse that they finally called the ambulance and sent me to the hospital._

_They tried to resuscitate me numerous times. I hadn't woken up when my parents tried to wake me up, and by the end of the day I finally opened my eyes, but by then it was too late: When I opened my eyes, I saw the world through a shroud, a fog. I had a purpose before then. I couldn't remember what it was, but it was there. When I woke up…it had left. I had no purpose, no reason to exist. My purpose no longer existed…_I_ no longer existed._

_That was the day I died._

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"Kimimaro, you need to eat."

The nurse slid the tray toward him, anxiously saying, "Your parents are coming to visit you. You need to eat so we can tell them you've made some progress." She grabbed a spoon and forced it into his hand, pointing at the mashed food all over his plate–a substance he wouldn't even need to chew when he put it in his mouth for sustenance.

He lifted his pale face toward her, eyebrows knitting together. "My stomach decomposed months ago. It's useless to eat this…even if it is mashed up beforehand…" He looked down at the food, pursing his lips together. "I cannot digest this. It is…_unnecessary_."

The nurse huffed and walked off, leaving it in front of him in hopes that he would smell it and his appetite would return. As she left, she walked into the hallway, down the corridor until she reached a large door. She pushed against it roughly–the door was heavy–and forced her way in, setting her clipboard onto the desk she approached.

"Doctor, the patient's condition seems to have worsened. The pills aren't working. He's _still_ exhibiting symptoms of schizophrenia. What do you suggest we do?"

The doctor looked at her, clearing his throat and folding his hands under his chin. "Which patient is worsening? How has it worsened…?"

She sighed. "Kimimaro, Doctor. Now he says he has no stomach so he can't eat. Last week it was his teeth, this week he says his stomach decomposed _months_ ago. He has no concept of time, just like always, but now he refuses to eat!"

The man smiled, releasing his hands from his chin and pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He stood, taking the clipboard off the table and peering it over. Finally, after a few moments of deliberation, the pale-haired man turned around, smiling toward the window.

"Up the dosage of Seroquel to 325 miligrams. If he shows no improvement in the next week, it's clear we'll have to take a different approach…"

She nodded her head. "Yes…Doctor Kabuto." She exited the room, and the doctor cleared his throat, unable to keep the smile off his face any longer. He wouldn't even need to give it a week to see if the medication would work. He and the head of the institution already knew exactly what was wrong with him after the head went to a seminar the week before.

"It seems we've stumbled across a goldmine," he chuckled. "A condition as rare as _that_ would warrant funding benefits…"

–––––––––––––––––––––

Apparently, mental institutions had come a long way from what they'd been even ten years ago. Kimimaro wouldn't have had any idea–he'd only been there for six months. Schizophrenia–that's what he had, they said. Of course, it wasn't as if he could've _had_ anything. His brain had gone long since. His kidneys would leave him soon, then his liver, his lungs, his heart. His blood would dry up, his eyes would deteriorate, his bones would stiffen, and soon he'd just be a corpse in a bed.

He stared at the food for a while longer before he finally stood, leaving the room to go wander the halls. The ward he was on didn't allow it, but he was given that privilege. As he stepped, he made sure to only step on the dull grey squares of the checkerboard floor. The walls were washed white, grubby hands from patients clawing their way from their rooms, shoulders brushing the walls in that way they were forced to walk–the patients who were more violent than others.

The pale, pale teen looked up at the ceiling, at a light flickering before buzzing loudly, finally flickering off for the last time. He sighed, a slight ache burning through his chest before fading away a split second later. He couldn't really feel anything at all.

His ward was with the schizophrenics. Some were long gone, others in catatonic states, and others getting better with medication. He seemed to be the only one not improving–of the ones that weren't long gone, that is. A few of them were absolutely delusional and had lost their battle years ago. One man spent his days sitting in the corner of his room and talking animatedly to servants he supposedly had because he was a king of some kind. Another lay in bed all day, staring up at the ceiling, his eyes rolling side to side as he looked across the ceiling at things that weren't there.

"Kimimaro, come here, man."

Kimimaro turned to see a head poking out from the corner, leading to a doorway that separated the two wards. It was one of the twins…he didn't know which–they both looked the exact same and enjoyed switching clothes to fuck with people's heads. He went to the younger teen, looking at him wearily. The twins were…complicated. One twin had been placed there for substance abuse, while the other had been put there for self-mutilation and numerous suicide attempts. It was something to the effect of, "If we have to be separated, we might as well both die." He didn't really understand them, but they were on separate wards. Occasionally they would switch places in the stairwell, and both would experience what it was like on the other ward–that was where they were caught, unable to move forward because neither wanted to progress, each wanted to just have fun while they were there.

"What is it…U…Sa…eh…" He was wearing Ukon's clothes, but…had they decided to change clothes again?

"It's Sakon, you idiot. My brother is far more attractive than me. Yeah, I know, my hemp necklace isn't around my neck right now, but don't you think the way I talk is at least a bit of a clue?? Either way… Which organ failed you _this_ time, Dawn of the Dead?"

"…My stomach decomposed. I can't eat."

Sakon snickered, grabbing him and pulling him around the corner. "Sucks to be you. Eating's the best thing in the world. I do it a _lot_. I know how to make this great cake filled with weed. You should try it sometime. The taste is different, the texture's the best part. The last time I smoked weed was…three years ago, I think. Now all I like doing is cocaine. This one time, our dad accidentally put the coke on his French toast, thinking it was powdered sugar. It was _hilarious_!! But let me just take a look at that absence of stomach you got…"

He lifted Kimimaro's shirt and placed his hand to Kimimaro's belly, holding it there and going completely still. It was so weird–the twins seemed to have a knack for feeling someone on the inside without actually entering them. The younger teen frowned, looking at the pale teen.

"You sure about that? The stomach thing, I mean… I felt a bubble of stomach acid."

"…It's no longer there."

"Then how do you explain the stomach acid? If you're dead, how do you manage to walk around? People don't just get up and walk around after they die. Why aren't you trying to eat my brains, Resident Evil?"

"What's there to explain? I no longer exist. My body's just moving on sheer will. Pretty soon my kidneys will go, and then my liver, and then my blood will dry up, my gall bladder will decompose, the spleen, the lungs, my heart, and eventually I'll just–"

"You are _fucked up_. Anyway, come 'ere. I got somethin' to show ya."

The younger teen reached into his pocket, producing a handful of anti-depressants from it, looking half-dissolved, like he'd snuck them out of his mouth after the nurses walked out of the room. "I managed to get my hands on these when me and Ukon switched. He's been giving them to me, and when we switched two weeks ago for a while, he managed to get his hands on something to cut himself with. You know those playing cards they have out in the commons room? He managed to filch the Ace of Spades from the room, and _apparently_ with the right amount of pressure he managed to break the skin. The docs ain't seen the fresh marks on his thigh yet, and we don't plan on giving them that pleasure. Ukon had this great idea of slicing his wrists wide open while I OD on his anti-depressants. What do you think?"

"…Does it matter?"

"Hell _yes_ it matters! We're committing a joint suicide this Friday!"

A loud noise echoed down the hall and Sakon clamped a hand over his mouth, dragging them both behind the doors to look through the windows. An older teen was being dragged out of his room and down the hallway to another room, kicking and screaming. The younger teen finally relaxed, shrugging his shoulder casually. "Ah yeah…that guy's a tool. He won't shut up, either. Anyway, Kimimaro, what do you think about our joint suicide this Friday? If we kill ourselves and _don't_ get up and start walking around, what would you say to that?"

"…I didn't kill myself. And my will is stronger than yours."

"Whatever. You think it's a good idea? What do you the think are the chances we'll succeed? He's been hiding the pills under his mattress and sneaking them to me; there should be enough for a proper overdose, but I'm not that sure… Should we wait a month or so just to be safe on my end?"

"…The longer you wait, the greater the chances are that you'll be discovered before you even get to attempt it."

"Smart thinking! This Friday it is, then! Thanks for the chat, Dead Alive!"

Kimimaro narrowed his eyes. "Why do you keep calling me things like that?"

Sakon flashed him an easy grin, leading him through the doors to the ward he was exploring when he and his brother switched. "You've never seen a zombie movie, have you? Dead Alive's my favorite by _far_. _So_ hilarious! Peter Jackson's a genius when it comes to morbidly funny shit like that! Ukon can't _stand_ stuff like that, but whatever. My brother's a tool, too. But he's a lazy bastard. Spent most of his days sleeping when he should've been out doing something with me. Why do you think I turned to drugs? Gave me something to do at home, while he was sleeping, by his side. Lazy little dick finally started telling me I was a dumbshit when I had a freak-out on the bedroom floor… God, he's so fucking…" He licked his chapped lips, looking for the right words to say, staring at the ground, eyes swirling with so many emotions Kimimaro couldn't keep up with them all.

He turned back to the pale teen, smiling wryly. "We're changing wards today. You wanna step out into the stairwell and watch? It's going to be great."

Kimimaro shook his head as they passed the stairwell in question. Before he could say a thing, Sakon had patted him on the shoulder and flown to the door, as if he couldn't wait any longer. A few seconds later, something came crashing into the doorway and he could hear the twins whispering frantically.

"What took you so long, Sakon?"

"Ran into Brain-eater. He suggested we do this joint suicide Friday, bro."

"Good. How many pills did you manage to collect? I'll give you the rest on Friday and we can do it at two in the morning."

"This many."

"Good. Take your, er, _my_ pants off."

"Not until you take mine off first, man. Oh, my necklace."

"I'll get to your necklace after your pants. Keep my pants on."

"I should say the same to you, bro. Where's all this patience coming from? Usually you're telling _me_ to get my ass moving."

Both boys snickered as quietly as they could to themselves, and the door banged against the wall again. Kimimaro stared at it for a long, long moment before he realized he didn't even want to be down this corridor in the first place. He walked away from the door, choosing to ignore their antics for once. There was something strange about those two. Not that he could complain–he was _dead_ after all.

–––––––––––––––––

His mother looked at him, putting a hand to his face and watching him just look at her mutely, deep red rings under his eyes. He was getting sicker, they could tell. Whether it was the medication or the fact that he felt like he didn't need to sleep, or something no one was telling them, they had no idea. His mother finally sat down on the bench beside him, looking around the room they had been shoved into for some privacy.

"Kim."

He just looked at his knees. …His spine cracked as he leaned over a bit, propping bony elbows onto his knees. Sometimes he wondered if he _had_ bones. Sometimes he wondered if he had muscle, if he had _anything_ anymore. His stomach was gone, his teeth were gone, his brain was gone. What if he were decomposing faster than he thought? What if he–

"Kim," she said, more firmly this time.

He looked over at her. He looked over at the frail woman sitting to his left, at the woman with no trace of life in her eyes and a shattered look to her face, the woman with a weak constitution. She stood shakily, placing a shaking hand to his face again, bones creaking, back leaning when she was standing up straight. Calcium deficiency, that's what she had. Osteoporosis, that's what she had. Something like that, that's what she had.

"Kimimaro. Look at your mother when she speaks to you," his father said, sounding ten times more sure of himself than his mother ever had. He was stocky, thick necked, with broad shoulders and a thick torso, a strong ribcage. He had always been stronger than his wife; he'd always been sturdier.

Kimimaro finally turned and looked at his mother, mouth opening to speak. No words came out, and he looked back down.

His mother turned to his father and her face fell deeper than he'd ever think he'd see it go.

"…It's the medication making him like this. I read up about it. Schizophrenia, the pills…they…they do that to you. They turn you into a zombie, they make you muted, a shell of what you used to be off of them. They block your brain from clear, concise thought. I…I knew it would. He's–"

"Your son is not a schizophrenic."

They both turned to a tall, lithe-framed form of a man. His skin was the colour of chalk, and he looked somewhat greasy. His eyes were so vibrant green they looked almost yellow, and he smiled at them, flashing a corrupt-looking smirk. Black hair hung over his face, tied back into a ponytail in the back. He coughed, stepping toward them again.

"Just the other day, his doctor came to me and told me that his symptoms haven't improved. Now, this could easily be the medication, but we have changed his medication so many times over the six months he has been with us and still nothing has worked. While looking through a diagnostic journal, and after attending a few seminars, I think I have the answer for your son's…symptoms…"

His mother stared at the man, shivers going up her spine, but Kimimaro just looked on, sucking in a breath. Schizophrenia…a misdiagnosis…? Where would they send him _this_ time? To a different ward? To a different institution?

"Who are you?" His father looked at the man, demanding an answer.

"I am the head of this institution. Orochimaru, at your service… After discussing things with Doctor Kabuto, we have determined he may have been misdiagnosed."

"Misdiagnosed? What kind of institution are you running!?"

"I assure you, he has all of the symptoms of schizophrenia. Even a doctor twice as skilled as Kabuto could have misdiagnosed him. We believe he has Cotard's syndrome. The case is rarer than rare, and there are barely any recorded cases of it. It's understandable for people to look over this case when diagnosing a patient, so don't be so upset."

"Then we'll just have to send him to a specialist. He needs to be somewhere that can–"

"Your son is very special, and I feel it would be in both our interests to leave him in my care. We have the facilities to treat him, and now that we think we know the problem–"

"You _think_? If you don't know the problem–"

"Dad."

The three adults turned and stared at him, and Kimimaro looked over at Orochimaru, his insides twisting under the man's gaze. "I…I agree. With…Mr. Orochimaru."

"Kim, what–"

"Your son does _not_ have schizophrenia, if our research is correct. If that were the case, to send him to a specialist would just prolong the delay in his recovery. The longer the delay, the less we can do for him. Yes, we may have diagnosed him to begin with, but to find a specialist for this disorder would cost thousands of dollars on your part. It would be cheapest–and _safest_–to leave him in our treatment. We know what his problem is, so we can begin the correct treatment immediately with this."

Kimimaro's mother looked between the two men before her eyes fell to her son. Tears welled up in her eyes before she bent down and gathered him up in her arms. He barely reacted to the contact, and in response the tears began to fall, dripping onto his shoulders and sticking to his hair. She shook her head and kissed his temple a few times, holding his cheeks in her hands.

"I just want my baby back. Give me my baby back and I'll pay anything, Mr. Orochimaru."

Her husband looked back at her with disgust. "What are you _saying_? We need him well, yes, but we don't have anymore _money_!! We can't _pay_ for this! We've already been forced to sell your car to pay for his treatment!"

The grip on her son tightened and she glared at him accusingly. "Money shouldn't be an option when it comes to your own flesh and blood, to your own offspring! I want my boy well again, damn it!! I want him to look at me and smile again! I want him to laugh! I want him to _talk_ to me like he used to!! You couldn't possibly understand, you weren't there for him when I was pregnant, and you weren't there for him when he was growing up!!"

"Don't you _dare_ accuse me of not being there for him! You did the same exact thing by pawning him off on your relatives almost every weekend!!"

"I carried him inside of me for forty-three weeks! He didn't _want_ to leave me! That's more than you can say, you–"

"Mr. and Mrs. Kaguya, if you were to sign your son over to me and my associates, we would be able to treat him _and_ pay you for it."

His father reacted first, going toward the man and holding out his hands in disbelief. "Wh-What? You're saying that if we…we…_sell_ him to you, you'll pay us!? Why would we sell him to your institution!? He's not a bargaining chip!"

"Mr. Kaguya, it's not considered _selling_. If you hand him over to us with permission to _study_ him and his condition in detail, you will get reparations for helping us with our research. It's not _selling_ your son so much as selling away his disorder for scientific observation. We would be helping him. The only difference would be that you'd be allowed to visit him a bit less than you have been now. Aside from that–"

"If we agree to this, we get to set some conditions, correct!?" The men all looked at his mother as she clutched him tighter, turning her eyes to look at the a pale head of the institution. She looked back over her son's face, as if memorizing each and every detail, each and every bump and groove. She ran a hand through his hair and locked eyes with him. His eyes were hollow, lifeless, and she turned back to Orochimaru and her husband, wiping at her eyes uselessly.

"If we agree to this, we get to set some conditions, don't we? We can demand that you let me visit my son more than I'm allowed now, right!?"

The man's white face fell, and he looked at her darkly. "Mrs. Kaguya…not many people are aware of Cotard's syndrome, but in the few cases that have been able to be studied over the years, there's been a link found with depression… I can't risk him seeing you and your husband if the cause of his syndrome is depression, since you two might be the cause of it…"

"That's ridiculous! Why would–"

"Mom," he breathed into her hair, and she turned to look at him, hurt. He continued. "M-Mom…he may be right… You and Dad hate kids, right? That…That means you hate _me_…"

Her face crumpled, and the grip on his cheeks tightened. "Why would you _ever_ think that, Kim!? How could we possibly hate you!? It's not us, Kimimaro!! It's not because you're depressed! It's that sickness that made you like this!! It was that fever and those head-aches and the restlessness! It wasn't _us_!!"

"That remains to be seen," Orochimaru replied tonelessly. She whipped her head around to see him standing there beside her, his arms holding out a waiver. Her husband had already signed it, and now it was just her turn to sign it. When she did that, he would no longer be hers anymore: he'd be theirs.

"If you want to help your son, you're going to have to sign this form, Mrs. Kaguya. It might be painful at first, but I _assure_ you, I will give you your son back. And when I do, he will be just as energetic and happy as he used to be."

Her hands trembled as he handed her the pen. She took it in her hand and, with one more glance at her son, she signed the papers.

Kimimaro was no longer theirs.


	2. The New Arrival

_The last chapter was intense. Not really. Sakon and Ukon are fun, aren't they? My favorite line involving both of them is, "Keep my pants on." Ha ha, so true. I hope all of you realized they were talking funny like that because they were still referring to the clothes they were wearing as belonging to the other person. Thus, the possession was different than what normal people would use on a pair of pants if they were wearing them. (Of course, that phrase in itself is also sorta important. You find out a little more about them in this chapter. I don't think we've spoken to Ukon yet, though... Ukon is on Juugo's ward, so Kimi-kun can have Sakon and Juu-kun can have Ukon.)  
_

_I'm surprised so many people like this. O: It's so strange, considering there's so little written about Kimimaro. I tend to like the characters not many people write about, so when I write about them and get reviews, I get surprised. I was _really_ surprised I got not just one but four reviews that quickly. The other chapters from here on out should come a bit slower, since I had the first two chapters written up with only minor tweaking in between...  
_

_But what about Juugo? O: I actually make him somewhat of a crybaby in this. At least, with his mother in the picture. After that, he's not crying at all._

_Damn. According to Naruto biographies I've found online, Juugo is 6-foot-6-inches while Kimimaro is only 5-foot-5-inches. Damn. He's like, a full foot taller. Juugo can't be a teenager. At least, in Naruto. Here, he will be, because I can. I picture him being a football player or something. You're probably not going to get any of that, though, because, obviously, I know absolutely nothing of sports. Tennis and soccer would be the only two, and even those I barely know about in terms of intricacies. Baseball would be another–practically the only sport I know in detail–, but I doubt someone as big as Juugo would waste his talents on the baseball field. Football, definitely, because I see him as something more like an impenetrable wall than someone who can be quick on their feet. _

_Anyway, I have introduced the nurses and given them names, now. This is semi-important, since you'll see them a lot. Usually I'd just call them the nurses, but there's too many to keep unnamed. Sorry._

_**Kagerou**__ is the new nurse, and she is based off of the character in one of the fillers. Horseface, who turns all pretty. A minor character, so I've described her a bit better. Her name is important, since it means short-lived. Keep that in mind._

_**Shizuku**__ is one of the nurses there that genuinely cares about the patients rather than the image of the institution. You'll see a bit more of her later on in the story, but for now she's only mentioned. Based off of one of the little girls in the fillers, but only in name. Her person is based off of the girl's mother appearance-wise._

_**Ibara**__ is based off of a random bystander who looks down on Naruto in one of the first episodes. The name is also telling for her character, but I'll let her actions speak louder for her. She's also the nurse that tended to Kimimaro in the first chapter. Did she seem kinder in that chapter? Maybe not. She gets meaner, I think._

* * *

**Alive  
**_Chapter 2 – The New Arrival_

"_Mother, take me to a mental institution."_

"_What for?"_

_I grab her head in my hand, slam it into the kitchen table. The first crack resounds through the air with a dull "clunk" and the sickly-sweet smell of blood fills my nostrils. Crack–again; she somehow manages to survive the first two without even a crack in her skull. (My mother has always been hard-headed.) Crack–once more; blood splatters across my face, onto the table, onto the floor, the walls, the salt and pepper shakers, her breakfast–bacon and eggs–, onto my shirt and staining the faded indigo deeper bruise purple. Her eyes roll in her head, but she's still breathing. Crack–again; crack–she's still not dead; crack–I let her fall limp onto the table._

"_Juugo! Are you listening to me? Why the hell should I take you to a mental institution? You're a good boy, and your anger management therapy has been helping the outbursts."_

_Tears worm their way into my eyes as I stare at her watching me, trying to discern whether or not I'm joking about the whole thing._

"_M-Mother…" I cup her head in my hand, trembling like a leaf as the urge to bash it into the table itches at my fingertips. She places her hand over my wrist, looking slightly concerned, but she says nothing. My grip on her head tightens. "Please!" She rips me away from her, bringing a hand up to her head, surprised that I squeezed too hard._

"_Juugo, what–"_

"_I'm losing control!" Tears make their way down my cheeks. "I'm afraid I won't be able to keep my urges in my head!"_

"_Urges; what urges!?"_

"_H…" My voice grows quiet, and it's so hard to let her down a second time. "H…Homicidal…"_

_She rubs the back of her head, where I'd grabbed her earlier. Her eyes widen as she realizes my reasoning behind that grip. "Oh my God…so that was…"_

'Don't,'_ I scream, mentally._

"_Juugo… You…"_

'Don't say it,'_ I scream again, louder this time._

"_You're a _monster_!!"_

"_I'm…so sorry," I whisper as I bury my face in my hands and sob pitifully._

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"The patient refuses to leave his room."

Outside of his room, he could hear them clear as day–talking about him as if he weren't there, as if he couldn't hear. It was a common occurrence; he was used to it by now–all of the patients were. He'd only been there two days and he was already used to it. He hadn't left his room, still refusing to get up and go anywhere, refusing to even look at another human being. The last nurse that walked in to try and get him to eat nearly got her head ripped off…or…not really…but he imagined it rather vividly. So vividly, in fact, that he broke out into a cold sweat when he came back to reality and saw her staring at him as if he were crazy.

Then again, he _was_ crazy, wasn't he?

"What are you going to do about it?" a much younger, yet gruff and manly voice replied.

"He's got to eat some time. I tried to get him to eat yesterday and he broke into a cold sweat. His mother said was that he had homicidal urges, so I'm trying to lure him out with Kimimaro." This nurse was aged, wiser.

"Sh-Shouldn't he be put somewhere…more secure? He's old enough to be tried as an adult, after all. Why not go to a _real_ psychiatrist? Why _here_ at this dump?"

"_Surely_ you knew about this place before applying to work here! This facility was the best in the state merely two years ago! Ah, forget it, you haven't been working here long enough to remember. Come on. Help me get him out of his room for a while. He needs to walk around a bit."

"What if he–"

"You've got the tranquilizers ready, right, Kagerou?"

"…Y…Yes…"

"Then everything should be fine."

"…_Should_?"

"You never know, but get those ready, just in case. Try not to freak out and stick him before he does anything: that tends to look bad on our records."

"…Get someone else. I'm…I'm not ready for a patient this…unbalanced…"

The younger nurse turned and abruptly left, and the older of the two–the nurse he'd thought he'd murdered the other day–sighed in aggravation before muttering to herself, since she had no one to act strong around, "There's no way in hell I'm going in there alone again. Maybe Shizuku will help me…"

Before he heard her heels clicking against the tile as he left, another sound crashed into the floor. The nurse spun around, and he could see her face through the small window in his room. Her eyes widened briefly before she rolled them and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Sakon, what are you doing in this floor? You _know_ you're not allowed on the same floor as Ukon. Go back to your–"

"Yeah, yeah. You don't have to tell me twice, hag."

"Excuse me? _What_ did you just call me?" She raised her eyebrows threateningly, disbelievingly.

"You heard me. I called you a hag. The truth hurts, don't it? You're all old and wrinkl–"

She stormed over and soon the sounds of the boy screaming could be heard down the hall as he was dragged off back to wherever he was supposed to be. "Hey! Leggo of my ear, you stupid hag!! How dare you separate the two of us!! I'm going to tell my dad you cunts are abusing us and– Damn it!! Ukon! Ukon, get your lazy ass over here and get this bitch off of me!! Ukon!!!"

Without another word, Juugo was left alone to his own thoughts. Silence entered the room like a grinning cat, taunting him to do something, teasing him to actually fulfill one of the urges that ransacked his brain. _"Just go outside and find someone to play with,"_ it seemed to purr.

A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead, and his bottom lip quivered. Before he had a chance to scream and tell himself to stop his own thoughts, the nurse was coming back down the hall to her post, heels clicking against the floor. She muttered bitterly, to herself.

"You _dare_ call your brother lazy when he's suffered so much blood loss from that suicide attempt? The nerve of kids these days. You should've suffered permanent brain-damage, you little brat. Or maybe the both of you could have died like you wanted. That would make our jobs so much easier…"

The latch on his door flipped down as she turned the handle to enter the room, tired of sitting around and doing nothing. Juugo's eyes widened and he shot toward the back of the room, as far away from the intruder as possible. She entered the room and closed the door behind her. As she frowned, she threw a hand behind her back–the hand holding the tranquilizers, no doubt.

"Juugo," she started, fake concern dripping from her lips, "if you wish to get better, you're going to have to leave this room some time. Running away is _not_ going to help you come to terms with these urges of yours." She held out her hand to him as if to help him to his feet, as if she actually expected him to take it.

He _did_ take it, throwing her to the floor and straddling her immediately afterward. One hit was enough to make her unconscious, but a few more hits killed her. A puddle of blood pooled around her head like a cruel halo, and he slowly stood.

"Juugo, are you listening to me, dear?"

He snapped back to reality and broke into a cold sweat, slowly shaking his head. As he turned his eyes to the ground, she walked over toward him. This made him feel even more uncomfortable. "…I…" He shook his head and fisted his orange hair, struggling to put his thoughts and feelings into words. "I can't go out there. I _can't_. If I do, s…someone might…they might…g-g-get…"

"You can't kill someone who is already dead, can you?"

He looked up at her, and she stood up. Something flickered in those aged eyes of hers, and she put a now-free hand on her hip. His look said he couldn't, so she continued with her train of thought. "If you come with me, you'll be able to eat lunch with someone who is already dead."

"A…_corpse_?"

She smiled a Cheshire grin and turned around, the syringe filled with the tranquilizer in full view of him, daring him to try something. As she stepped to the door, he could hear her chuckle to herself.

"Something like that," she crooned.

–––––––––––––––––––

There was something frail about the boy across the table, like something had died in him years ago. It was if he'd been broken at a young age, like someone had picked him up and thrown him across the room like a rag doll, watched as the battery packet stowed and hidden in a Velcro-pouch fell out, spilling the batteries onto the floor where it was then forgotten and left there like that, in expectation that the magic came from some other stores and not from cheap double-A, store-bought batteries. His face looked drained and pulled thin, his lips strung tightly together in a line.

His eyes may have been a vivid green at one point, but they had dulled. Now his eyes simply looked tired and hollow, and the deep red rings under his eyes just pointed to insomnia.

Juugo's eyes flitted across the table again and grazed over the other boy's neckline, over the pale, porcelain skin revealed by the plunging V-neck collar. He turned his eyes back to his food and poked at it idly with his fork.

He took back everything he said about the boy–the boy wasn't merely broken; he was dead, an actual _corpse_.

Glancing sidelong at the nurse's station just outside the door, he could see the old bat of a nurse looking through the window at them, watching to make sure he didn't do anything he'd regret later. There was no doubt the entire room was being monitored on a screen somewhere. With another quick glance at his food–a combination of what appeared to be spaghetti but tasted more like meatless chili and noodles–, he set his fork down.

"…I've lost my appetite," he muttered, wanting to leave his place by this stifling, broken boy.

The boy across the table didn't respond at all, but, rather, detached himself further. He swirled his spoon around in his bowl and did little else. The much larger teen clenched his fists and looked over at the bowl that must've gone cold about thirty minutes ago, watching the deep yellow rise up from the top and overtake the milky, watered-down green of miso soup.

"Name?"

Juugo's eyes widened, and he leaned over the table just slightly, unsure he heard the boy clearly. His eyes turned toward the boy, and he was surprised to see the other just staring straight at the table, refusing to meet his eyes. The question had been so quiet, it was as if he'd merely heard it in his head. _Had_ he imagined it?

"Your _name_," the boy repeated, sounding _almost_ agitated. "What is your name?"

"I'm Juugo."

"Juugo," he mimicked, a corner of his lips twitching just ever so slightly. Finally, he crossed his hand over the other and set them against the table. "They can't hear you or read your lips, despite the cameras. Put both hands on the table when you're done eating."

As if to specifically prove his point, one of the nurses walked in and motioned for him to stand up. The boy did as was expected and slid out of his seat. Without a word, he walked out of the room and down the long, sprawling hallway. A hand reached out from around the corner and pulled him back, from what Juugo could see.

The nurse grabbed the bowl and made a "tch" with her teeth and tongue. She shook her head sadly and muttered to herself, "That Kimimaro hasn't eaten in weeks. Dr. Kabuto better _know_ what he's doing…"

As she walked out of the room, Juugo looked back down at his food. His stomach rumbled so he picked his fork up again. With renewed appetite, he wolfed down the rest of the meal.

–––––––––––––––––

When Juugo finished his meal, he walked into the common room where a few couches were set out around a television hanging up at the ceiling, in the corner. A few tables were set up behind it, complete with a few games that the hospital deemed safe to play. There were no playing cards that he could see, and all of the checker pieces seemed to have been replaced with bits of coloured foam. How one managed to try to slice their arm open with a playing card or a checker piece, he had no idea, but the sheer fact that were deemed unsafe pointed to the notion that someone had attempted it at one point.

The boy–Kimimaro–was sitting on one of the couches and staring at the television screen with only mild interest. Off in the corner, a girl around their age plucked out split-ends from shagged red hair that extended mid-way down her chest; and there, on the couch beside Kimimaro, laid a boy with bleached silver hair that stuck out on the arm of the couch. His hair parted over his left eye, uncovering it, and he fiddled with what appeared to be a hemp necklace circling his neck with thin, nail-bitten fingers.

The silver-haired teen kicked his foot toward Kimimaro, nudging his arm roughly.

"Oi, oi, oi, 28 Days Later, aren't you glad to see me at least? I finally get out of the infirm and you aren't going to give me a smile? Your ol' buddy Sakon missed you in the week he was gone… Not as much as he missed his lovely brother, but he still missed you…"

Kimimaro glanced over at him and shrugged his shoulders, and Sakon cracked his elbows, stretching his arms up in the air. His feet stretched as well, jabbing the "corpse" in the side a little as he did it. "Whatever, Shaunie…" In a childish huff of anger, he crossed his arms over his chest and looked up at the ceiling tiles.

"It wasn't enough pills, just so you know," he informed Kimimaro. "They didn't discover me, but I woke up in the morning in a puddle of my own urine and covered in sweat and spit and vomit. So much _you_ know. Do you know how _lucky_ it was for Ukon to be a total retard and attempt it near the door so that the blood leaked out into the hallway and alerted the night guard something was wrong?" He sighed before groaning and ripping at his hair. "This is bullshit! I want out of here, damn it!! They've got shit on us because we aren't doing anything wrong!!"

The girl in the back finally spoke up, an edge of irritation in her voice. "You actually believe they're going to _care_ what little shits like you think? As far as they are concerned, you're breaking the norm and _that_ makes you crazy. You're in here so they can manipulate you into thinking like they do, Sakon."

"Shut the hell up, Tayuya! Go back to your room and talk with your imaginary friends like you used to!"

She stood and cleared her throat more clearly, shoving her hands onto her hips. "There's no call for you giving me this bullshit, Sakon. I never condemned you or that idiot brother of yours of anything wrong. I'm just saying that your opinion doesn't matter here as long as you don't think like they do."

"Well, there's nothing wrong with us. You, on the other hand, are mental. Those little friends of yours just prove you're a nutj–"

"Don't bring my other selves into this, you piece of shit! Yes, it's abnormal, and I'm well aware there's something wrong with my brain. I'm trying to get out of this place just like you are, only I've been in here far longer, so shut the fuck up and quit complaining. When you've seen half the shit I've seen _then_ you have a right to complain." She stormed out of the room, pushing past Juugo as she did so.

He grabbed her arm before she could escape, quickly wrapping his fingers around her throat. His fingers pressed into her esophagus and a strangled scream issued from her lips. Her hands reached out and grabbed for his hand in a futile attempt to pry it off her neck. His fingers dug into her esophagus even further and her face started to turn a sad shade of blue. Tears poured down her face as her eyes watered up, growing puffy and red. That's when she started thrashing around uselessly.

"Fuck you, too, Tayuya!" shouted Sakon, snapping Juugo from his thoughts.

The bigger teen looked down to the checkerboard floor tiles as he heard the redhead go tromping down the hallway behind him. After a brief moment, he looked back up to see a pair of eyes on him. The silver-haired teen was staring at him with a look he could only assume to be morbid curiosity. Sakon's eyes narrowed and the smirk on his face grew.

"Hee hee hee hee… What's up with you, big guy? Got a thing for Tayuya, do ya?" He laughed and fell back into the couch, behind the back so Juugo could no longer see him. His arm rose up far enough for Juugo to see them, and his hand waved at him teasingly. "The only thing _she's_ interested in porkin' her is that flute of hers, so you might as well give it up!"

Juugo's cheeks turned an awkward shade of purple before he looked down at the floor.

"Leave Tayuya alone, Sakon. And leave Juugo alone, as well. Don't take your anger out on others, especially someone new here."

Juugo's eyes shot to the couch to stare at the back of Kimimaro's head as he chided Sakon's behavior. Sakon waved his hand in the air and leaned back into the couch again. "Shut up. You aren't my mother, rotbreath."

Before he even realized the urge to attack had crossed his head, Juugo found himself grabbing Sakon by the collar of his shirt and throwing him off of the couch and into one of the tables set up for checkers. Little foam pieces went bouncing to the floor with a loud clatter of two chairs and the checker board. The table fell into the wall and stopped. Sakon went tumbling to the ground and Kimimaro turned to watch, a comical expression of numbed surprise crossing his pale face. Sakon jumped up almost immediately, a wry and catty grin on his face, as if itching to fight.

"Well, well, well, did I say something to anger you?" He lifted his eyebrows and pursed his lips, blowing a kiss toward him. "I insulted Shaunie here, didn't I? That make you angry–" The next word came out nice and articulated, and his eyes showed every ounce of hatred in them.

"–faggot?"

It happened in an instant. The word passed into Juugo's ears like a curse and danced all over the surface of his brain, promptly wedging itself deep inside, painfully. His eyes dilated and he let out a sharp exhale through his lips in a half-chuckle. He'd already sunk so low, fallen into this pit, gotten himself into a mental institution. Why even bother using the tactics he'd learned in his anger management therapy? Why not sink as low as he possibly could go?

His fist moved on its own, slamming Sakon's head to the side.

Sakon went falling across the room, sliding into the wall and cracking against a radiator. The silver-haired teen let out a loud swear, and Juugo wiped the side of his fist against his cheek, looking at him coldly.

"What did you call me?" he spat.

Sakon sat up and rubbed his head, going cold when he noticed the blood dripping from a wound in his temple. He let out three short breaths before he looked back up at Juugo, snarling, defensively trying to act tougher than he felt.

"I called you a faggot, you piece of shi–"

As quick as a light, Juugo stepped toward him, grabbing the younger teen by the collar of his shirt and throwing him into another wall as Kimimaro looked on with wide eyes. "Call me that again," Juugo dared. His eyes glinted maliciously, dancing, daring; he was having _fun_ with this.

Sakon, who was now tired of acting tough, sat up again and got to his feet, not even caring that he was bleeding even more profusely now. He wiped the blood dripping down his face and getting into his eyes and lips with an open palm, as he took a deep breath. Without warning, he went dashing for the door and Juugo took chase. The room was tiny, crowded with tables, but the giant teen had tossed them to the side, scattering books and game boards everywhere as he went.

Inches from the door, he reached out and grabbed the back of the Sakon's shirt.

"Gotcha," he laughed as he pulled the smaller teen back into his crushing arms.

Sakon struggled, kicking wildly and shouting curses at him, and Juugo worked at his arms, trying to gain a foothold on the scrawny, sprightly teenager that was having only slight difficulty worming out of his grasp.

Suddenly, it happened.

"Juugo."

A voice behind him spoke calmly–

"Put Sakon down. He's an idiot who has no idea what he's saying half the time he speaks."

Something twisted around in the taller, older teen's chest and he dropped Sakon to the ground. Finally free, Sakon crawled to his feet and went stumbling out the door of the common room, screaming.

"You're crazy! You son of a bitch!!" he shouted. "You're fucking _mental_!!"

Juugo spun on his heels to see Kimimaro staring at him, his eyes back to their same dulled green. Something stuck in his back and his vision blurred. As he fell, he could see a smile grace the pale teen's face. Something warm caught him as he fell to his knees, echoed shouts of nurses and orderlies bounced around, filling his head, but the smile seemed to stick in his mind. It was a sincere, broken smile that held a hint of sadness.

As he closed his eyes and let darkness take him, he could hear Kimimaro shuffle past them all, out the door.

"Sakon started the fight," Kimimaro informed a nurse before everything disappeared and left Juugo in formless, unfeeling darkness.

Why would a stranger scold and cover up his attack at the same time?


	3. A Strange Sort of Intimacy

_I am so sorry this chapter came late. Due to my mood, I've recently stopped most of my stories for lack of motivation. Hopefully posting this will get me out of my funk. It's been written for about a month or two at most, I can't remember when I posted the second one. _

_Also, I received a review that said schizophrenia isn't what Kimimaro would be mistaken for. In fact, it would be a depersonalization disorder. I went back and double-checked, and found I _had_ made a mistake, only focusing on one symptom and. Well, let's not explain it, because those are excuses when it comes right down to it. _

_I made a mistake, plain and simple. _

_If I were to go back and fix it, it would take some time (probably an eternity knowing my tendency to procrastinate). I'll try to go back and fix it, but I can't make any promises. So, just in case I wind up never fixing it, I decided to make sure everyone knows he'd be mistaken for a _depersonalization disorder_. (Sorry Orochimaru, your stupidity is my stupidity now. Har har. And Kabuto… I just don't like you, you silver-haired pain in the butt.)_

_Anyway, the dialogue seems a bit stiff in _this_ chapter, so I apologize for that._

_I hope you enjoy this chapter anyway. (It's not too "intimate," but whatever. That will come in due time.)_

_And remember:_

_Kimimaro was mistaken for a depersonalization disorder. _Not_ schizophrenia.  
(Where's flashing text when you need it?)

* * *

  
_

**Alive**  
_Chapter 3 – A Strange Sort of Intimacy_

Kimimaro opened his eyes when the clock struck nine in the morning, right on cue. It was his morning routine. Getting out of bed; breakfast; wandering the halls; lunch; medicine; a meeting with Doctor Kabuto about his progress; common room; dinner; common room; lights out; silent, unsleeping meditation until morning: He had the schedule down precisely to the very minute. His new room around the corner–from Ward C to Ward B where Doctor Kabuto's office was located–had changed his schedule so he now woke up at nine instead of the usual eight, but everything was still in order.

As he made his way down grubby halls, he leaned against the wall. He'd been feeling weaker as of late, and he had no idea why. Perhaps he'd been correct in his assumption that his body was decomposing quicker than he thought before. That would explain why his legs felt as if they didn't want to hold him up any longer–the bones were deteriorating. His cheek brushed against the cool wall and he closed his eyes as he walked, taking a deep breath to steady himself.

Stiffly, he neared the lunch room, placing a hand against the window of the nurse's station as he passed it. Warm oatmeal was already sitting out for him as he slid into his seat, but it was unappealing. The stench of cinnamon drifted into his nostrils, and he turned toward the nurse's station to see Nurse Shizuku, a big, motherly nurse that had a big smile and a big heart, staring at him with hopeful eyes.

He couldn't help but find the entire thing almost amusing.

They were trying _so_ hard to make him hungry, weren't they? It was impossible, of course, but the sentiment was not unnoticed, at least.

Picking up the spoon, he turned his eyes back to the oatmeal and swirled it around idly, watching the milk rise up from the top and wet the drier parts exposed to the air. He pressed down the remaining drier parts and watched them expand back out, glistening. He placed the spoon against the side of the bowl, both hands rising to lie against the table, and sighed bitterly, tiredly.

Mere centimeters before his hands hit the tabletop, a nurse walked in and placed a tray of bacon and eggs at the spot across the table from him. He withdrew his hands immediately, eyes widening _just_ slightly. It had been one weeksince the new patient had that attack and lashed out at Sakon, but it seemed he wanted to come back out of hiding, thus…

…Juugo was going to be eating with him again.

One hand retracted to his lap and the other instinctively went for his spoon.

Sure enough, Juugo walked in and took the spot across the table from him, immediately throwing the food to the ground at the sight of what was there on the plate. Kimimaro's eyes blinked instinctively at the loud noise as the plastic plate clattered against the floor, making loud "wahh-wahh-wahh"s against the dirty tiles as it slowed to a stop.

"I'll have what he has," Juugo muttered to the nurse as he stared down at Kimimaro's oatmeal. "I refuse to eat eggs or meat."

The nurse looked him up and down, obviously taking his size into account. "Are you…sure?"

He turned to the nurse, eyes glinting. "Didn't my mother tell you I'm vegan…? Or did the remnants of meat from all of my previous meals and the uneaten chicken soup at the door to my room not clue you into that?" He snapped, but it seemed he was disgruntled for reasons other than the meal set before him. "…Are you stupid or do you just refuse to accept that I don't eat meat?"

The nurse flinched, much more visibly than Kimimaro could ever hope to, and spun on her heels, dashing out of the room as fast as she could. Despite the fact that Juugo had been angry, he looked strangely relieved when she left the room. After his brief moment of relief, he slumped into his chair and stared at the food on the ground. Groaning, he grimaced and put a hand to his forehead.

"God damn it… Bacon and eggs is my mother's favorite," he moaned, wiping a hand through his hair as he started to sweat a bit.

Looking him over more thoroughly now, Kimimaro could see Juugo was of a different world than him entirely–he looked a lot like his own father in terms of stockiness, only much, much taller and much more muscular. His face was still young, and his hair stuck up at odd angles, like he'd made a habit out of leaving it like it was when he got up in the morning. He looked like a typical jock, and the sight brought back memories of accusing looks and muttered jeers. Still, there was something decidedly different about Juugo from all of those like the older teen he'd met in the brief years he'd been in high school. There was no confidence, forced or otherwise, like he saw in the jocks at school. Instead, he merely seemed conflicted.

Presently, Juugo shook his head and looked up at the ceiling, towards the cameras in the corners. "I just wasted all of that food…"

Before Juugo could continue his self-pitying rant, Kimimaro slid his bowl over toward the older teen. "Have mine, then. I won't be eating it."

"I can't," he sighed. "It wouldn't be right. _You_ need to eat it."

"I _don't_ need to eat it," Kimimaro pressed. "My teeth and stomach have decomposed; that's why they had to start mashing up my food to begin with, but now it's useless without a stomach."

Juugo's eyes looked him up and down, lingering on his face at the end. He furrowed his eyebrows together sadly, muttering, "You're paler today," under his breath. Kimimaro raised his eyebrows in question, but the orange-haired teen shook his head and looked away to frown. "Last time I checked, teeth don't decompose, and certainly not before the internal organs. And you say you have no stomach, too… If that's the case, then how do you get the energy to move?"

"Sheer will," Kimimaro replied with great conviction.

Juugo scoffed, leaning back in his chair with a small smile, though inside he was more concerned than he should have been. "That's impossible. Not even an athlete can rely on sheer will to cheat death, and that's pretty much all they have on their side sometimes. I mean, if this were life or death you could use that excuse, but this isn't–"

"I'm not _cheating_ death; I _am_ dead. Are you saying I'm wrong?"

"You're _very_ wrong," Juugo replied, looking at what was left of Kimimaro with obvious worry etched across his face. "_So_ very wrong, actually. You say your teeth have decomposed…but I'm looking right at them."

"What I'm saying is _true_." Kimimaro furrowed his eyebrows, finally feeling something other than nothing. Now he felt angry and, strangely, confused…like he was drowning. If Juugo was so sure, then maybe he– No. He _was_ dead. He died that day in the hospital after that illness. That he was walking around was by sheer will, now. _Juugo_ was wrong.

"You've just manipulated yourself into believing it's true," Juugo rebutted, narrowing his eyes.

Kimimaro's lips trembled as he placed his hands firmly on the table, desperately wanting to escape. "Y-You're wrong," he snapped. "You're absolutely _wrong_!"

He stood before the nurse could even arrive and tell him he could leave, stumbling backwards into the wall to escape what seemed like the truth staring him straight in the face. Juugo's eyes held absolutely no anxiety, no uncertainty in his conviction. Staring at them made him feel frightened. "N-No! Stop looking at me like that!" he pleaded, and his expression wavered, as did his strength.

Beads of sweat rolled down Kimimaro's forehead and his breathing became labored from the effort of standing and shouting all at once. He put a hand to his head, wincing as his legs turned to jelly and his knees buckled, sending him to the floor. The table heaved, scooting across the floor with a loud shove. Something warm and strong and big caught him. Darkness enveloped him, cutting off his vision like the flip of a switch. Something shattered very near his ear.

He wanted to run, but he was too weak.

"Kimimaro!"

The voice was feminine and motherly and heavy with concern–Nurse Shizuku, no doubt. When had she managed to get over here? Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion, or time had sped up and his mind was moving slower. Oh, right, she must've been delivering Juugo's oatmeal to him and happened to walk in on this. That explained the shattering he'd heard. That was the last reasoning he could make before his mind numbed.

"Kimimaro!"

It echoed, bouncing off the walls of his mind, ringing melodically in his head. Something brushed against his cheek–a gentle hand that felt tense against his now-clammy skin. "Kimimaro, are you okay!? Doctor! Someone go get Doctor Kabuto! Kagerou, go get the doctor! Ibara, get over here and help me! Juugo, hand him over to me, dear. Kimimaro, honey! Say something, Kimimaro!"

He could feel himself slipping into darkness. Her voice echoed in his ears, and soon it was joined by more and more voices: his mother as she pleaded for him to smile for her again; his father as he tried to get his attention; his relatives, those voices he'd heard for years; all of the people who shouldn't have been there but _were_ there, loud and clear and shouting in his head.

"Kimimaro!"

"_Kimimaro"_

"_kimimaro" _

–––––––––––––––

Kabuto could hear the nurse shouting his name down the hall before the door even opened. He sighed and looked over at his guest, grimacing. "I'm terribly sorry for this interruption," he said, clearing his throat in preparation.

The heavy door flew open with much more ease than it should have, crashing into the wall as the newest nurse, a brutish-looking brunette, Kagerou, came rushing forward. He sneered at her as he looked over her person with disgust. Thick neck, meaty arms and legs, thick torso with enough stock to hide her breasts: everything about her was mannish. Her horse teeth didn't help the image, nor did her deep voice. She looked more like a man than a woman, and an ugly one at that.

"D-D-Doctor Kabuto," she panted, hands falling to her knees as she bent over to gain her breath. "It's…It's Kimimaro!! He collapsed after his usual breakfast! He and Juugo got in what appeared to be an argument and–"

Kabuto raised his eyebrows and pushed the glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Juugo, the new patient in Ward B?"

"Y-Yes, sir, but that's not important!"

"I should say it is. If Kimimaro collapsed after–"

"No, he just fainted because he didn't have the strength!"

"How long have you been working here?" Kabuto's eyes hardened.

Kagerou recoiled, taking a step back. "Two weeks, sir…"

"Then what makes you think you know _anything_ about my patients?"

"I'm…I'm sorry, doctor, but I just–"

"Where is Nurse Ibara?"

"…Helping Shizuku," she admitted, her cheeks flushing scarlet.

"Shouldn't you be with _her_ instead of bothering _me_?"

"S-Sir, Shizuku said–"

"Don't interrupt me; I wasn't done. You could learn a thing or two from Nurse Ibara, like manners and not panicking under stress. I don't care what _Nurse_ Shizuku said; make sure his vitals are okay and take Kimimaro back to his room to let him rest. If your mother taught you any manners, you'd know to knock before entering." He turned, smiling lightly at another man sitting in front of the desk. "Isn't that right, Doctor Orochimaru?"

She bowed her head low as Orochimaru turned to her, eyeing her with mild interest. "I'm…I'm so sorry! I was not aware you were in a meeting, Doctor Kabuto!" she exclaimed, her face turning almost purple.

"Go tell the other nurses my instructions, and I want you to _personally_ attend to Juugo, nurse. Make sure he gets back to his room," Kabuto ordered.

She paused, head still bowed in fear as she wrapped her head around those instructions, and Kabuto couldn't help but grin vindictively. "Now!" he barked, and she went running out of the room, absolutely flustered.

With her out of the room, Orochimaru crossed his hands back over his knees and cleared his throat. "Where were we, Kabuto?"

"We were discussing the new plans for the grounds," his subordinate replied, going to the door and shutting it to keep their conversation private. "I was thinking we could add in a few gardens in the back. It would certainly look good to the public. They might be more inclined to send their loved ones here if they believed we let out patients walk around, bonding with nature or some other rubbish like that."

"Ah, yes, of course. I think that'd be a sufficient plan for the money we've received." Orochimaru glanced back toward the door, narrowing his eyes. "More competent nurses would also be beneficial to this institution."

Regaining himself, the lithe, chalk-white head of the institution smiled again, curling a lock of dark hair behind his ear and standing. "You have been so much help to this institution, Kabuto," he purred, lips curling into a crooked smile as he placed a kind hand on his subordinate's shoulder. "The institution was in trouble before you arrived, but you've managed to turn it around. Still, we're in trouble again and we _need_ Kimimaro here as long as possible. The funding benefits are essential to fixing this place up. Keep him here as long as you can…even if that means hindering his progress."

"As you wish, Orochimaru," Kabuto replied with a bright, loyal smile.

––––––––––––––––

"_kimimaro"_

"_Kimimaro"_

"Kimimaro."

Light filled his vision, turning foggy and muted grey against a sea of black, and Kimimaro's eyes fluttered open to stare at the white-washed ceiling of his room. Turning, he sat up and rubbed at his eyes groggily. "What," he started, but soon words were lost to him as he saw the older, bigger teen sitting beside his bed, against the wall.

His first impulse was to flee from the room, but something itched in his arm. That was when he noticed the metal stand the older teen was sitting beside. His eyes traveled the stand up and up and up until he saw the bag hanging from the top. There was a plastic clip letting a clear liquid drip into a thin tube underneath that. The tube continued, finally stopping at a piece of tape against the inside of his elbow, right over a vein. It itched, and he wanted to rip it out…but first…

"What are you doing here?"

Juugo turned to him, as if from a daze, and his eyebrows furrowed together. "Oh, you're _awake_." He didn't sound pleased at the notion.

"Of course I am. You said my name, didn't you?" Kimimaro replied.

Juugo grunted in embarrassment as he stood up, patting his rear of the dirt and grime that had settled in the crack where wall met floor. "I didn't say anything," he muttered, more to himself than Kimimaro.

"You did. You said my name. It woke me–" Juugo turned and gave him a scalding look, and Kimimaro's voice quieted. "–up…"

Silence settled between them, and Kimimaro fell back into his pillow and turned his eyes to the ceiling, too weak to sit up any longer. "I could have sworn you said my name… I guess I was wrong, then…" He was fairly sure he was right, but he was simply too tired to argue. He felt as if he'd woken up from a ten-year-long coma, all achy and stiff. Still, with his mind able to reason again, he was sure now that _Juugo_ had caught him as he fell; for that, he was grateful.

"Thank you," he said quietly, listening to Juugo's footsteps drift farther away.

Kimimaro glanced over to see Juugo already opening the door, looking down at the checkerboard tiles of the hallway. "You're welcome," the older teen mumbled, embarrassed. His eyes then hardened, and he looked back at the frail teen lying in bed.

"You owe me one," Juugo informed him.

"I'll keep that in mind."

"If you want to repay me, then eat something. Even if you feel it's unnecessary, eat something." His eyes fell back to the floor, and he bit his lip subtly. "You say you're decomposing, but you're really just…wasting away. …It's…" He cleared his throat and walked out the door, slamming it behind him without finishing his sentence.

Kimimaro sat up and stared at the door with wide, unblinking eyes as a swear erupted on the other side and Juugo's head passed the window, shaking "no" as he stomped away angry.

He then turned and fisted the sheets resting over his legs, looking awkwardly at the bed with puzzled eyes. His throat felt dry and scratchy, and his eyes felt heavy. He cleared his throat, hearing the phlegm rise up in the back, feeling his jaw grow even heavier.

Something began pricking at his eyelashes, and he finally fell back into the pillow and placed his hands over his eyes as his chest spasmed and an odd croaking sound came issuing from his lips.

Why the hell had Juugo's anxious expression make him feel torn in two?


End file.
